Almost Real
by FrauleinCrestfallen
Summary: What is reality ? How are we to know if what is happening now, is nothing but an elaborate fabrication of what we wish to be true.


Christine smile joyously as she ended the last note of her solo; her voice traveling smoothly throughout the theatre. She felt elated, a rush she only felt while singing. Although it was only a rehearsal it was all the same to her. A slender girl rushed to her side immediately, "Christine, that was simply amazing, a nightingale would turn green with envy should it hear your voice." Christine blushed modestly. "You speak too highly of me Meg, I still have much to learn." She smiled at her friend as her eyes noticed the thin, inky frame that was Madame Giry approach behind her daughter. She gave a nod of approval to Christine, then grabbed her daughter's arm. "Come, your posture was poor and your dancing was like that of a court jester." She critiqued her daughter as she began to walk from Christine, Meg in tow. "If you are not a member of the Ballet Corp, you may be excused from rehearsal. A good night to all of you." She spoke aloud to everyone, but her Madame Giry's dark eyes bore into Christine's as she spoke. Christine knew she was speaking to her directly. Christine curtsied politely before bidding a good night to both Madame Giry and Meg.

She hurried to her dressing room, sitting down after entering the lavish room. She exhaled slowly and removed a few pins from her hair. Brunette curls that shone with fire tumbled down her back like a waterfall. She ran her fingers through her hair briefly before smiling at her reflection. She softly hummed an aria from_ Faust_, it was one of her favorites. Christine slipped out of her stiff day dress, pulling a simple dress over her underclothes. It was a deep green, velvet, and had the soft embroidery of white roses near the collar. She studied herself in the mirror, a small grin tugging at her lips. Suddenly the lonesome moan of a violin met her ears, the sound sang out into her very core. Each note, each chord, each desolate rythm awakened a stinging sadness. She hadn't felt this much pain since her father's passing. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, the mournful music resonated through her being. Just as suddenly as it had began, the violin had stopped playing. Christine looked up; realising that she had sank to her knees, becoming subject to the mastery of the violin. When she looked up, she jumped. Golden, coppery eyes were staring down into her blue. It was the Phantom, his trademark mask covered most of his face in a ghostly white.

"Good evening, Christine." he spoke suddenly, she jumped again. The velvety tenor of his voice filling the room imediately. "It is time for your lessons." He didn't give her time to reciprocate his greeting. The Phantom held his hand out, silently offering to help her up. She cautiously took his hand, no longer than her hand had grasped his she was on her feet. Christine blinked a few times, coming back to herself. "I apologise for letting it slip my mind, thank you for coming for me." His thin lips formed into an almost imperceptible smile before speaking curtly, "Come, we must go. Can't risk some poor wretch catching a glimpse of me can we now ? Lest they wish to have their wits unsettled" he chuckled softly then looked back at her. She seemed perplexed, then spoke, "that song, it was so incredibly sad. . . Did you write it Angel ?" He nodded, becoming a bit impatient. "We must go now." The Phantom turned a concealed knob, the wall mirror opening like a door. He bid her go in first and followed behind, securing the mirror into it's original place before leading her down to the labyrinth. The water glistened from dim torchlight as she carefully stepped into the boat. He pushed away from the bank as the boat moved across the water. Unbeknownst to them, the two figures were being watched, and they were soon to be pursued. . .

"Christine, come now. A great singer is able to sing in all pitches, bass to soprano." She huffed with mounting frustration, he looked over at her. He was slightly amused by her irritation. "Again. Listen to the note, feel it inside of you. Your voice will do the rest." His fingers glided over the ivory keys of the organ. Christine closed her eyes, listening to the deep baritone singing out to her. She began to sing, it was a bit airy at first but the note came out perfectly. The Phantom glanced over at her, and content flashed in his eyes. She opened her eyes as her singing slowly stopped. Christine studied the Phantom, her Angel of Music. He towered over his organ with the majesty of a king. She approached him with uncertainty, his eyes squinting in concentration. She reached out, the smooth porcelain of his mask beckoning to her. Abruptly, he stopped. His glance shot towards her. "Did you hear that Christine ?" She blushed and turned as if she were trying to locate the noise she hadn't heard. He gently moved Christine out of the way as he walked towards the entrance of his candle-lit home. "Who goes there ?" Christine timidly loomed behind him. Then out of the darkness a figure quickly strode through the entrance. "Christine !" it screamed in a voice she recognised immediately. Before she could check her actions, she heard herself shout back, "Raoul !"


End file.
